On the one hand, her failure to recollect Tim helps me with Tinder. I mean, Cinder. On the other, I know that one day, should we ever cross the line, she’ll fail to see that I did exactly what she made me promise to do.
Forty-Five
Present Day
Hayden
My letter in The New Yorker stopped the internet at nine-thirty in the morning. For twenty minutes, the tech world held its breath while they read my words, and then they collectively gasped in shock.
Thousands of emails flooded my inbox, and #HaydenHunterisOverParty #HaydenHunterstole #TindermadeCinder made their way to the top of Twitter’s trending charts.
As morning news shows caught wind of the story, I turned off my phone and told Sarah to avoid making any statements on my behalf.
I knew that more intensive backlash was coming, but I wanted to stave off facing it directly for as long as I could.
There was only one person I wanted to reach anyway.
I sent out a company-wide memo, telling everyone to enjoy the rest of the week off, and then I brewed myself a cup of coffee. It was almost time for me to begin stage two of getting Penelope back.
As I was looking over my list, a loud knock sounded at my door.
I didn’t bother calling out to ask who it was. The people who were worth my time had keys.
The lock twisted, and the tell-tale sound of loafers hit the marble floor.
Lawrence.
“I love what you’ve done with the place,” he said. “All of these empty pizza boxes, takeout Chinese cartons, and beer cans add a true depressive flair to the room.”
“Thank you. That’s exactly the feel I was going for.”
“Hmmm.” He stepped on an empty wrapper, and I turned around to face him.
“Let me guess,” I said. “You’re here because all of the board members are resigning, and they want to see my head on a platter.”
“Quite the contrary.” He crossed his arms. “I’m the only person who wants your head on a platter—preferably a stone one, so I can crush it with a mallet. Everyone else at Cinder is beyond thrilled with you. They’re planning a celebration in your honor.”
What? “Why?”
“Because ever since you published that ridiculously, ill-advised lover-boy letter, our subscribers have increased by three hundred percent and our stocks are approaching record highs.”
He sounded anything but upset. “I figured you were biding your time and preparing one hell of a gloating session, so let me have it.”
“There’s nothing to give.” I shrugged. “I don’t have anything to gloat about.”
“Allow me to repeat myself. Subscribers are up by three hundred percent and we’re reaching record highs on the stock market.”
“I guess. Anything else?”
“Yeah, I need to give your doctor a follow-up call,” he said. “He clearly missed the fact that you’ve sustained some brain damage. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Wait,” I said. “Has Penelope called you? Has she emailed anything?”
“She texted me ‘Happy Birthday’ this morning.”
“Read me the message.”
“I just did.” He crossed his arms. “Happy Birthday, Lawrence.”
“Were there any emojis? Any hidden lines of code for me?”
He gave me a blank stare.
“Fine.” I downed my coffee.
“Can I give you some breakup advice?” He cleared his throat.
“No.”
“I’ll offer it up anyway,” he said. The Hayden I know wouldn’t be here right now. He wouldn’t give a fuck about anything except getting what he wanted. Because everyone and I do mean fucking everyone— minus her brother, maybe, could see that you two belonged together.”
He was right.
This guidebook-phase shit in getting her back wasn’t my style at all.
I grabbed my jacket and headed to the door. “I’ll be back to work sometime next week.”
“Please don’t do anything stupid for the next month.” He held his hand over his heart. “You owe me four weeks without any heart palpitations.”
“I don’t have anything stupid on my agenda.” Yet.
“So, you’re off to get Penelope back?”
“No,” I said. “I’m off to put Travis in his place once and for all.”
Forty-Six
Present Day
Hayden
I tore off my final wrist bandage and parked my car in front of B&B Warehouse.
To passersby, it was just another place on the shipyard that blended into everything else. Nothing left to see.
I knew better, though.
It was where Travis held his private workouts. Since he was still nursing his ego from his Vegas loss, there was a ninety percent chance that he would be here.
I waited for a couple to walk past and pulled a pair of shades over my eyes before stepping out. Then I made my way to the side entrance.
Typing in the code on the keypad, I opened the door and found myself face to face with his bodyguard.
“You’re the last person Mr. Carter wants to see.” He bellowed. “Get the hell out of here if you know what’s good for you.”
“Are you still cheating on your wife, Greg?” I asked. “Or, have you finally stopped? It’d be a shame if I accidentally brought up your mistress’s name the next time I saw her out.”